Assassin's Creed

As the year 2012 boils down, the Guild fears for the earth based on Minerva and Juno's dire prophecy. Abstergo, the Templar-corrupted research group plans to take control of the Apple. The Assassin's plan to destroy it. Many have joined the cause. Many have died trying. Now you, one of the few who passed the vigorous tests, are asked to carry-out a long list of tasks, which may end up being gruesome.

The Templar's have prepared as well. they have also sacrificed many to find a group of warriors that will prevail against the Assassins. You might also of choice to join the Templar group, or one of the corrupt Nobles that they control.

Assassain's Creed Character Sheet
Name:
Age:
Faction: (Assassin, Templar, or Neutral)
Sex:
Appearance:
Weapons (if any):
History:
Ancestral Assassin: (If the character is from a Family line of assassins.)
Misc. Information
​

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Name: Owen Miles
Age: 23
Faction: Master Assassin
Sex: Male
Appearance:
Weapons: Longsword, Throwing Knives, Hidden Blade (x2), Dagger
History: Jeremy was born as Desmond Miles child. He is a Child of Eden, who was taught the ways of the Assassain's from Childhood. Desmond retired from his positions as Master, and Jeremy was next in line.
Ancestral Assassin: Yes, (Altaïr Ibn-La'Aha, Ezio Auditore da Firenz, Stephan Miles (Desmonds Older Brother)

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Name: Damien ChevalierAge: NineteenGender: Male. Faction: Hashishin/Assassins - Untitled, to be made an Apprentice. Appearance: A dark skinned boy with long, dark brown-red hair. His hair is somewhat wavy. His nose was recently broken, and thus, is bandaged up. He has high cheekbones, a long nose, and a relatively strong jaw. He has hazel eyes, and dark, heavy eyebrows. He's rather short, at 5'6, and has a slight, thin build. He has heavy dark shadows around his eyes, and dresses primarily in black as well. He has a very slight accent, from his French speaking parents.Weapons: Box-Cutter.Ancestor: Mikal Al-Arshaq; the apprentice of the Rafik of Damascus. Mikal was considered to be a mediocre assassin at best, and a horrible one at worst. He very rarely killed anybody, and died in a later battle of Arsuf - the area always being contested territory. The young man was beloved, but it was generally understood that he wasn't much of an assassin at all - his talents lie in book keeping, languages, and history. Though his loyalty and family might have been Hashishin, his personality certainly was not. History: Born to french immigrant parents in Moscow, Idaho. His parents were both college professors. His mother was a proud, French woman who taught her native tongue at the college. His father was of Middle Eastern descent, and had immigrated to France when he was very young, with his own parents. His father taught anthropology - and filled their house with old pots, old furniture, and things hardly identifiable. They had been, in all respects, a perfectly normal, average family, that lived in a perfectly normal house, with a perfectly normal life.
When he was thirteen, he tried to kill himself. Just to see what would happen. He just tried to stop breathing. He forgot about not breathing. And he didn't die.
When he was fifteen, he tried to kill himself. His first girlfriend had ditched him for something petty and immature. And so, he tried to kill himself for an immature reason. He swallowed a handful of sleeping pills and was disappointed to see in the morning that he was still alive and well.
Then he found the box.
The box was filled with some of his father's things, but it also included a journal. A journal from a long begotten age, written by a long forgotten man. His name had been Mikal Al-Arshaq. It was his diary. It told the story of a young apprentice in an order of assassins called the Hashishan, about how the young man's failures as an assassin, and triumphs as a scholar. The book was filled with funny ideas. Especially for the time. Mikal no longer believed in God. He no longer believed in much of anything. His friend had died. His friend was named Kadar Al-Sayf. He had slept with his best friend. And he had watched his friend die. And then, Mikal had been carted off to Damascus to serve under the bureau leader there. He was a cruel man. His name was Rafik. He had cheery, black humour, but was cruel nonetheless, and he was successful at getting under Mikal's skin.
Damien began to see similarities between himself and Mikal. They had the same red-brown hair. They had the same French heritage. Neither one of them believed in God. He read on. The diary was tough to read - it had been written in old French, which used grammar and spelling that was almost entirely foreign. Mikal's words got darker as time went on. He spoke of invasions, and battles and carnage that were hard to believe. Mikal and Damien both felt horrified and sickened. Both of them, as if they were a single being.
And then, the unthinkable happened. Mikal fell in love with Rafik. He had torn him down, he had decimated him, and still, he loved him. Damien knew why. Because Mikal was going to die, and Rafik was all he had left. He didn't want to die alone, like Kadar. They slept together, they ate together, and they were killing each other. Damien had never known such a devotion like that. He felt like he was both alive and dead at the same time - like some part of him was far away in Damascus.
And then, he came to the last five pages.
On the first of the last five pages, Mikal left Rafik. He called himself an abomination, a sodomite, a monster. He left him and effectively broke away from the order, vowing never to touch the golden dagger he was given on the day of his initiation ever again. Mikal married some merchant girl from Damascus. There were no children and the relationship was never consummated. He was twenty.
When he was twenty two, he wrote the next page. He was going home. He was done with being married. He was a Hashishin, through all of it and all of him, even if he had never killed a soul. But when he came back to Damascus, the bureau was empty. It had been burned to the ground.
The third page was covered in blood.
The last two pages were written in a hand that wasn't Mikal's thin, neat writing. It was sloppy, large, and with a heavy weight. The french was very poorly written, nothing like Mikal's eloquent phrases and metaphoric tangents. It was blunt and to the point; Mikal is dead. I killed him. I didn't mean to. He was already dead. He was dying in my arms. I gave clean death. He wanted it. I so sorry. I so, so sorry. Rib punctured lung. Losing blood. Never looked more beautiful. He died in my arms with my sword through his heart. No more. These are the last words. I die now. Like him. Like all of us. Sultans will get us eventually. Better to get a clean end. I write my name here so you know who killed him. Rafik El-Hashem. Damien no longer felt alive. It was like he had died in the book. Like he had been killed by his friend and lover. It was all over. Without the book, he no longer knew what to do. So he slept. He figured he could sleep off the intense sorrow he felt. And when he slept, he dreamt. And he only dreamed the same dream; the sword plunging into his chest, the feel of tears falling on his cheeks, his own voice murmuring, "It's okay, It's okay" as he was held in a set of arms that he knew far too well. Rafik.
He was experiencing the Bleeding Effect without ever being in an Animus. He just felt it within his bones. And so, when Damien was nineteen, he tried to kill himself. He took a box cutter from one of his father's cabinets, and sliced both of his wrists. He was found, bleeding out on the floor, and was rushed to the hospital.
It was there that the modern Assassins found him. It was there that he was taken away, to be given the Hashish. He doesn't know why he was taken away. He doesnt know who he is. All he knows is that he didn't die.
And he's furious.

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Name: Damien Chevalier
Age: Nineteen
Gender: Male.
Faction: Hashishin - Assassins
Appearance: A dark skinned boy with long, dark brown-red hair. His hair is somewhat wavy. His nose was recently broken, and thus, is bandaged up. He has high cheekbones, a long nose, and a relatively strong jaw. He has hazel eyes, and dark, heavy eyebrows. He's rather short, at 5'6, and has a slight, thin build. He has heavy dark shadows around his eyes, and dresses primarily in black as well. He has a very slight accent, from his French speaking parents.
Weapons: Box-Cutter.
Ancestor: Mikal Al-Arshaq; the apprentice of the Rafik of Damascus. Mikal was considered to be a mediocre assassin at best, and a horrible one at worst. He very rarely killed anybody, and died in a later battle of Arsuf - the area always being contested territory. The young man was beloved, but it was generally understood that he wasn't much of an assassin at all - his talents lie in book keeping, languages, and history. Though his loyalty and family might have been Hashishin, his personality certainly was not.
History: Born to french immigrant parents in Moscow, Idaho. His parents were both college professors. His mother was a proud, French woman who taught her native tongue at the college. His father was of Middle Eastern descent, and had immigrated to France when he was very young, with his own parents. His father taught anthropology - and filled their house with old pots, old furniture, and things hardly identifiable. They had been, in all respects, a perfectly normal, average family, that lived in a perfectly normal house, with a perfectly normal life.
WIP

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Accepted, so far. I suggest that you define the rank you are in the guild, or if you hold any sonorities within the guild. Fix those details and you'll be good.

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As an AC whore, I physically cannot keep myself from this, for better or for worse.

Name: Alexander Bishop
Age: 36​

​

Faction: Templar - Official Title "Vice President of Abstergo Industries" One of several "VPs" with a special role with the Company.

Sex: Male

Appearance:
Impeccable. Sharp. Lethal. Professional. A dedicated 'Templar Knight' if ever there was one. Seen either in a professional suit, or situation-appropriate tactical outfits, it is safe to assume that this is the sort of man who has never smiled.​

​

Weapons: Mr. Bishop is the sort to use the full extent of Abstergo's resources in the pursuit of completing his objecties. Whether that means procuring a top-of-the-line sniper rifle, to a truck filled with C4 Explosives. The loadout varies depending on the mission...though, it is to be noted that regardless of situation, he is never without a pair of collapsible trench-knives, and at least two .32 pistols.

History:
There are two histories to any Abstergo Employee who knows the Truth: the public history that is fed out to the peons and media, and the true stories that are forever locked away or erased. As far as the public is concerned, Mr. Alexander Bishop was born and raised in New York City, earned a full ride scholarship to Harvard Business, and has been an up-and-coming star in the corporate world.

Then there is the truth: Alexander Bishop was more of an experiment than anything else. Selected with so many other children at birth to be perfect soldiers for the Templars, his entire life was training. Preparation. Indoctrination. Whereas later in life, the masses would be able to learn skills and combat via Animus, Bishop was forged. Trained. Beaten. Scarred. Taught. He tore his way to the head of the pack...where others had lapses in resolve, or strength, or sheer will...Bishop did not. He was a weapon to bring Order to the chaos that was humanity, Abstergo's Black Ops go-to-man. Because of him, Pieces of Eden have been recovered, Assassins have been slaughtered by the hundreds. Assassins likely would not consider him human: more tool than man. He, of course, believes the opposite: the pinnacle of humanity, perfect balance, order, and control. Strength.

Misc. Information:
There have been many an attempt on his life. To any versed with the Order, Bishop is among the top 10 men that "Need to Die." ​

More options

As an AC whore, I physically cannot keep myself from this, for better or for worse.

Name: Alexander Bishop
Age: 36​

​

Faction: Templar - Official Title "Vice President of Abstergo Industries" One of several "VPs" with a special role with the Company.

Sex: Male

Appearance:
View attachment 7075
Impeccable. Sharp. Lethal. Professional. A dedicated 'Templar Knight' if ever there was one. Seen either in a professional suit, or situation-appropriate tactical outfits, it is safe to assume that this is the sort of man who has never smiled.​

Weapons: Mr. Bishop is the sort to use the full extent of Abstergo's resources in the pursuit of completing his objecties. Whether that means procuring a top-of-the-line sniper rifle, to a truck filled with C4 Explosives. The loadout varies depending on the mission...though, it is to be noted that regardless of situation, he is never without a pair of collapsible trench-knives, and at least two .32 pistols.

History:
There are two histories to any Abstergo Employee who knows the Truth: the public history that is fed out to the peons and media, and the true stories that are forever locked away or erased. As far as the public is concerned, Mr. Alexander Bishop was born and raised in New York City, earned a full ride scholarship to Harvard Business, and has been an up-and-coming star in the corporate world.

Then there is the truth: Alexander Bishop was more of an experiment than anything else. Selected with so many other children at birth to be perfect soldiers for the Templars, his entire life was training. Preparation. Indoctrination. Whereas later in life, the masses would be able to learn skills and combat via Animus, Bishop was forged. Trained. Beaten. Scarred. Taught. He tore his way to the head of the pack...where others had lapses in resolve, or strength, or sheer will...Bishop did not. He was a weapon to bring Order to the chaos that was humanity, Abstergo's Black Ops go-to-man. Because of him, Pieces of Eden have been recovered, Assassins have been slaughtered by the hundreds. Assassins likely would not consider him human: more tool than man. He, of course, believes the opposite: the pinnacle of humanity, perfect balance, order, and control. Strength.

Misc. Information:
There have been many an attempt on his life. To any versed with the Order, Bishop is among the top 10 men that "Need to Die." ​

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Name: Damien ChevalierAge: NineteenGender: Male. Faction: Hashishin/Assassins - Untitled, to be made an Apprentice. Appearance: A dark skinned boy with long, dark brown-red hair. His hair is somewhat wavy. His nose was recently broken, and thus, is bandaged up. He has high cheekbones, a long nose, and a relatively strong jaw. He has hazel eyes, and dark, heavy eyebrows. He's rather short, at 5'6, and has a slight, thin build. He has heavy dark shadows around his eyes, and dresses primarily in black as well. He has a very slight accent, from his French speaking parents.Weapons: Box-Cutter.Ancestor: Mikal Al-Arshaq; the apprentice of the Rafik of Damascus. Mikal was considered to be a mediocre assassin at best, and a horrible one at worst. He very rarely killed anybody, and died in a later battle of Arsuf - the area always being contested territory. The young man was beloved, but it was generally understood that he wasn't much of an assassin at all - his talents lie in book keeping, languages, and history. Though his loyalty and family might have been Hashishin, his personality certainly was not. History: Born to french immigrant parents in Moscow, Idaho. His parents were both college professors. His mother was a proud, French woman who taught her native tongue at the college. His father was of Middle Eastern descent, and had immigrated to France when he was very young, with his own parents. His father taught anthropology - and filled their house with old pots, old furniture, and things hardly identifiable. They had been, in all respects, a perfectly normal, average family, that lived in a perfectly normal house, with a perfectly normal life.
When he was thirteen, he tried to kill himself. Just to see what would happen. He just tried to stop breathing. He forgot about not breathing. And he didn't die.
When he was fifteen, he tried to kill himself. His first girlfriend had ditched him for something petty and immature. And so, he tried to kill himself for an immature reason. He swallowed a handful of sleeping pills and was disappointed to see in the morning that he was still alive and well.
Then he found the box.
The box was filled with some of his father's things, but it also included a journal. A journal from a long begotten age, written by a long forgotten man. His name had been Mikal Al-Arshaq. It was his diary. It told the story of a young apprentice in an order of assassins called the Hashishan, about how the young man's failures as an assassin, and triumphs as a scholar. The book was filled with funny ideas. Especially for the time. Mikal no longer believed in God. He no longer believed in much of anything. His friend had died. His friend was named Kadar Al-Sayf. He had slept with his best friend. And he had watched his friend die. And then, Mikal had been carted off to Damascus to serve under the bureau leader there. He was a cruel man. His name was Rafik. He had cheery, black humour, but was cruel nonetheless, and he was successful at getting under Mikal's skin.
Damien began to see similarities between himself and Mikal. They had the same red-brown hair. They had the same French heritage. Neither one of them believed in God. He read on. The diary was tough to read - it had been written in old French, which used grammar and spelling that was almost entirely foreign. Mikal's words got darker as time went on. He spoke of invasions, and battles and carnage that were hard to believe. Mikal and Damien both felt horrified and sickened. Both of them, as if they were a single being.
And then, the unthinkable happened. Mikal fell in love with Rafik. He had torn him down, he had decimated him, and still, he loved him. Damien knew why. Because Mikal was going to die, and Rafik was all he had left. He didn't want to die alone, like Kadar. They slept together, they ate together, and they were killing each other. Damien had never known such a devotion like that. He felt like he was both alive and dead at the same time - like some part of him was far away in Damascus.
And then, he came to the last five pages.
On the first of the last five pages, Mikal left Rafik. He called himself an abomination, a sodomite, a monster. He left him and effectively broke away from the order, vowing never to touch the golden dagger he was given on the day of his initiation ever again. Mikal married some merchant girl from Damascus. There were no children and the relationship was never consummated. He was twenty.
When he was twenty two, he wrote the next page. He was going home. He was done with being married. He was a Hashishin, through all of it and all of him, even if he had never killed a soul. But when he came back to Damascus, the bureau was empty. It had been burned to the ground.
The third page was covered in blood.
The last two pages were written in a hand that wasn't Mikal's thin, neat writing. It was sloppy, large, and with a heavy weight. The french was very poorly written, nothing like Mikal's eloquent phrases and metaphoric tangents. It was blunt and to the point; Mikal is dead. I killed him. I didn't mean to. He was already dead. He was dying in my arms. I gave clean death. He wanted it. I so sorry. I so, so sorry. Rib punctured lung. Losing blood. Never looked more beautiful. He died in my arms with my sword through his heart. No more. These are the last words. I die now. Like him. Like all of us. Sultans will get us eventually. Better to get a clean end. I write my name here so you know who killed him. Rafik El-Hashem. Damien no longer felt alive. It was like he had died in the book. Like he had been killed by his friend and lover. It was all over. Without the book, he no longer knew what to do. So he slept. He figured he could sleep off the intense sorrow he felt. And when he slept, he dreamt. And he only dreamed the same dream; the sword plunging into his chest, the feel of tears falling on his cheeks, his own voice murmuring, "It's okay, It's okay" as he was held in a set of arms that he knew far too well. Rafik.
He was experiencing the Bleeding Effect without ever being in an Animus. He just felt it within his bones. And so, when Damien was nineteen, he tried to kill himself. He took a box cutter from one of his father's cabinets, and sliced both of his wrists. He was found, bleeding out on the floor, and was rushed to the hospital.
It was there that the modern Assassins found him. It was there that he was taken away, to be given the Hashish. He doesn't know why he was taken away. He doesnt know who he is. All he knows is that he didn't die.
And he's furious.

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Appearance:
Note my character dosent have the banadge on his eyes
Weapons: two daggers that he keeps in his belt
Poison needles that he keeps in a bag grabed to his belt and some smoke bombs where he keeps in the pocket of his jacket

History: One day when Daniels mother, father and his uncle were at home the templars attacked them, Daniels family were assassins, they fought bravely killing most of the templars but at the end my parents were killed by one man, Daniel never forgat the killers face. Before the templar could kill Daniel and his uncle they escaped and hide in an abandon house. Daniel was only 4 years old when this happened. When he turned 15 his training for becoming an assassin started. His uncle trained him as much as he could, but Daniel wanted to be stronger, he wanted to kill his parents killer. Thats why he was send at the guild of assassins in New York.

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Appearance:View attachment 7577
Note my character dosent have the banadge on his eyes
Weapons: two daggers that he keeps in his belt
View attachment 7578
Poison needles that he keeps in a bag grabed to his belt and some smoke bombs where he keeps in the pocket of his jacket

History: Daniel was just 4 years old when his mother and father were murdured infront of his eyes. His parants were assassins they were killed by the templers, Daniel never forgot the face of the one who ordered to kill them, Daniel run away befor the templers were going to kill him as well. He was roaming the streets alone, he was sleeping in the dirt not eating for days. Daniel was near to dead when a man found him and took him into his home. This man was an assassin, the man knew his parants thats why he trained Daniel to become an assassin. When Daniel turned 15 years old he had the mission to find his parents killer and to kill him. His mission was a success, but from there on he traveled alone in this world.

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No. You need to work on your grammar skills in your bio. I don't want my Roleplay thread filled with stuff like this:

Daniel run away befor the templers were going to kill him as well.
ran before templars

What happened to him when he was on the streets? How did a friend of your parents just happen to be strolling and instantly notice you. He is a little bit young to have the balls to roam the city alone. And how the hell did your parents friend teach a 4-year old how to FREERUN, JUMP INTO HAYSTACKS, and KILL PEOPLE. Fix those major nicks.

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Appearance:View attachment 7577
Note my character dosent have the banadge on his eyes
Weapons: two daggers that he keeps in his belt
View attachment 7578
Poison needles that he keeps in a bag grabed to his belt and some smoke bombs where he keeps in the pocket of his jacket

History: One day when Daniels mother, father and his uncle were at home the templars attacked them, Daniels family were assassins, they fought bravely killing most of the templars but at the end my parents were killed by one man, Daniel never forgat the killers face. Before the templar could kill Daniel and his uncle they escaped and hide in an abandon house. Daniel was only 4 years old when this happened. When he turned 15 his training for becoming an assassin started. His uncle trained him as much as he could, but Daniel wanted to be stronger, he wanted to kill his parents killer. Thats why he was send at the guild of assassins in New York.

Click to expand...

Ok. I'll Accept this. But please PM me with your post before entering into out Roleplay Forum until your grammars get a bit bettter. No Offence, I just want quality posts.

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